Deception, p.13
Deception, page 13
“You’re nothing like her.” His words are spat at me almost cruelly. “Nothing.”
“W-Who?”
He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, dragging the flesh almost painfully to the side. Then, he slips his thumb between my lips. I bite down on his thumb because I don’t want it in my mouth. I don’t want him touching me at all. He hisses in pain and his lip curls up.
Oh God.
I’ve enraged him.
No turning back now. I’m already here, trapped in his grasp. And since there will be no flight, all that’s left is to fight.
I bite harder, feeling my teeth pierce his flesh. A metallic taste washes over my tongue. I’ve drawn blood. Good.
“Feisty little thing,” he growls. “So you want to play, huh? Let’s play.”
Chapter Seventeen
Scout
Oh, I like her.
I can see why my brothers are so enamored.
She’s a fiery, devilish temptation all dolled up to look like an angel. The thing with angels, though, is they’re easy to drag to the dark side. You just give them a taste of sin or a gift of pleasure. Breaking their wings is a treat. Crushing their halo is like a taste of heaven itself.
Welcome to the dark side, princess.
My thumb hurts like a sonofabitch, but it’s not like she can bite it off. She’d have to go through bone and she’s not a fucking dog. Eventually, she’ll let go. I’ll make her let go.
With my free hand, I grip her tit over her shirt. She cries out in surprise. Her death grip on my thumb doesn’t relent. Stubborn as fuck.
I grab her tit roughly before releasing it. She sucks in a sharp breath around my thumb as my other hand finds the button of her jeans. Without much effort, I undo her button and work the zipper down.
“Let go,” I warn, my voice like shards of glass stabbing at her.
Her answer is to bite harder.
Fuck.
I shove my hand down into the front of her jeans, the silk of her panties the only barrier keeping my fingers from pushing inside her. I’m not interested in fingerfucking her, but I have an idea to make her turn my thumb loose that’s still held hostage between her vicious teeth.
“Wednesday night, you came like a good girl over the phone. I know you’ve been fantasizing ever since. For this moment.” I grin wolfishly at her. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
Fuck. Maybe she will bite my goddamn thumb off.
I rub my middle finger over her panties, working it between the lips of her pussy. The second it pushes against her clit, she whimpers. My brow lifts as I watch her pretty face turn a lovely shade of red.
“When you moan and finally release me, I’m going to shove my fingers somewhere else. Somewhere where you can’t hurt me.”
Her blue eyes flash with a mixture of fear and desire. Dirty little girl. She’s warring between hating this moment and wanting more.
“You can’t stop me, either,” I taunt. “Your pleas will fall on deaf ears.”
Each breath she takes is ragged. Almost needy. I rub at her clit, enjoying the way her lashes flutter and the grip she has on my thumb loosens.
“In fact, I’ll get off on your begging,” I continue with a sneer. “I’ll come all over your face as you cry.”
Her eyes close and her nostrils flare. With each rub against her sensitive spot, her hips jerk. She likes my touch. Filthy falling angel.
Come down a little more so I can break your wings, beautiful.
Lips close around my thumb and I can almost imagine how they’d look around my dick instead. Her teeth no longer ravage my skin because her tongue has taken over, needily laving over my flesh.
Shouldn’t have let go, angel.
I yank my hand from her mouth and the other from her pants before she can orgasm. The shriek of surprise and disappointment make my cock thicken. Too easily, I could fuck her. She could scream no all she wants but her wet pussy would be arguing with her all the way.
She wants, no needs, for me to release her.
Break her because you can.
Grabbing hold of her hair, I twist her around so she’s facing the mirror. I push her forehead against it so she can see the need burning in her eyes. She doesn’t even fight me as I jerk her jeans and panties down past her ass.
“F-Ford,” she whispers. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”
“No, you’re not.”
“We can’t do this. Not here. Not like this.”
“Such a romantic, prickly princess. But don’t worry. I’m not going to fuck you.”
She frowns, confusion written all over her soft features. It’s not because I don’t want to fuck her. I do. Shockingly, I absolutely do. I’m just not going to do it right now. She secretly wants it. Until I find out all her secret wants, I’ll enjoy making her wait.
“Get them wet,” I order, bending her body with the force of my own as I lean against her. “And don’t bite this time. You won’t like where I bite back.”
Fear shimmers in her eyes in the mirror. With my grip still in her hair, I ignore the throbbing in my thumb and once bring my fingers within chomping distance. Not gently, I push my fingers into her mouth deep enough she gags. My dick jumps at the thought of making her do this while shoved all the way down her throat. I use my fingers to fuck her mouth—four of them, all but my aching thumb. Slobber runs down over her chin and tears race down her cheeks.
“Good girl. Your mouth is trainable.”
Fury flashes in her gaze, but I yank my fingers out of her mouth before she can do any damage. I twist my fingers tighter in her hair and then slip my wet ones down over her ass crack. She moans—the sound fearful and horrified—and she goes completely still. I find the slick opening of her pussy and tease it with my longest finger.
“You want this, hmm?”
She tries to shake her head no, but my grip on her hair is too tight. I force her to nod. More tears. A sob. Pleading.
“If you want it so bad,” I growl, “then fucking beg for it.”
“Y-You’re a monster.”
“You have no idea.”
Our stares lock. She sees right through me. Straight to the beast that lives at the very root of my soul. Glowers at him, unafraid of the consequence of her bravery.
“Beg.”
“Fuck you, Ford.”
I push a finger deep inside, loving the moan that tumbles out of her. Before she can enjoy it too much, I pull it back out. Her panting fogs up the mirror in front of her face. That won’t do. I need to see every expression on her pretty face.
I yank her upright and bring my teeth to the side of her neck, seeking out flesh through the mess of golden-blonde hair. She whimpers when my teeth press into her neck but don’t bite down. I breathe heavily over her flesh, letting the fire inside me burn her, warning her of the hell that’s to come.
“Are you afraid?” I murmur, letting my finger dip inside her cunt again. “Hmm?”
“Always.”
Her angrily spat out word has me pausing. She’s always afraid and it pisses her off. Poor princess is weak and she hates herself for it.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” I taunt. “It’s a choice. You choose it. That’s on you.”
“You make it sound easy. Like I should be okay with the fact you have me at your mercy, free to do whatever you want.”
“I can do whatever I want. You can’t stop me either. You’re trapped.”
“I’m not weak,” she snaps. “You’re weak. Preying on a little girl. A fucking monster!”
Her blue eyes are wild, enraged beyond belief. She’s not talking to this demon. She’s talking to the ones that live inside her head—the ones who always torment her. The ones responsible for her continuous fear.
“If you’re not weak, then by all means, take control.”
She blinks several times, chasing away the haunting thoughts possessing her. Her tearstained cheeks are bright red and my blood is smeared over her lip and chin. Wrecked and in such a feral state, she’s fucking mesmerizing.
“Make me come.” Her nostrils flare. “I want you to make me come and then I want you to leave me the fuck alone.”
I shove my finger deep inside her, pull it out and then shove two inside. She cries out but doesn’t back down. Her boldness has hardened her into stone. Beautiful granite.
“Harder,” she demands. “Make it feel good. If you can.”
My dick is straining against the zipper of my jeans. I want to fuck this mouthy brat until she’s boneless and can’t remember her own name.
“If,” I parrot, grinning at her reflection. “You have no fucking idea who you’re taunting.”
“The snake.” She pushes her ass against my hand. “You’re a snake but I’m not afraid of you.”
Her trembling could argue that fact, but I let her win this round she’s so bravely fought. I squeeze another finger into her tight pussy, fucking her like I would if it were my dick. Rough and relentless. So hard she cries. Such a beautiful sound.
I finally release her hair because I need my free hand. Sliding it around to her front, I squeeze her tit, drawing out a delicious moan, before diving south. My fingers push between her pussy lips, seeking out her sensitive clit. She lets loose a surprised shriek and grips my wrist as though to stop me from making her come.
Nothing can stop me now.
I won’t stop until her cunt is leaking with pleasure, running down her thighs and soaking her clothes.
“That’s it,” I rumble, my mouth finding her ear. “Give it to me.”
Her pussy squeezes around my fingers, her desire evident in the way it slicks up my hand. I fuck her hard with my fingers, making sure to graze her g-spot each time. She claws at my wrist but not because she wants me to stop.
She wants this.
Needs this.
I pinch her clit and tug at it while fingering the spot inside her that’s the button to straight ecstasy. Her body responds, like I knew it would, and she detonates. Like a nuclear bomb, obliterating everything around us.
She screams.
So loud I’m forced to abandon her clit to cover her mouth. She shakes uncontrollably in my grip, fresh tears running down her cheeks and soaking my hand. I expect her to run the second she comes down from her high, but she surprises me by relaxing in my arms.
Safe with a monster.
It’s a laughable thought.
My humor is muted, though. I’m too transfixed on the way her cunt continues to spasm around my fingers that are still wedged inside her. How her hot breath tickles my hand with every strangled surge of air she attempts to suck into her lungs.
She groans against my hand that covers her mouth as my other fingers slide out of her. I step back, leaving her trembling form, wrecked and used and sated by the sink. Her blue eyes sear into mine in the reflection. Bringing my wet fingers to my nose, I inhale her scent—lavender and mandevilla. So delicate and sweet.
I flick my tongue out and run it along the glistening remnants of her orgasm on my fingers. She sucks in a sharp breath, watching my every movement like I’m the most fascinating creature she’s ever encountered.
Her taste is foreign to me.
Sugar laced with something addictive, like heroin.
A sweet shot of obsession.
“Now I understand the pissing match Wednesday night,” I say, flashing her a knowing grin. “I understand quite well.”
She cries out when I pounce on her. I easily twist her body around and push her bare ass against edge of the sink. I dip my mouth to hers, trying to memorize her scent for later when I jack off to this memory in the shower. A barely audible whimper from her has me wanting to chase it and taste it and suck it from her lips.
My mouth crashes against hers. I can taste the twang of my blood still smeared on her lips. I wonder if she can taste the blissful high of herself. The kiss ends sooner than I’d like, but if I don’t escape the confines of this bathroom, there’s no telling what I’ll do.
I can’t let myself go there with her.
She’s just a substitution for what I really want.
The one I will have one day.
“See you later, prickly princess.”
With a wink, I leave the trembling girl alone. I wonder how long until she realizes her wings are gone. She’ll remember this moment—the moment I ate them while she rode my fingers into oblivion.
Sorry, beautiful, but you’re not an angel anymore.
Chapter Eighteen
Landry
I need help.
Not help to escape this hell, but real psychological help. After what I allowed—what I actually enjoyed—today at school, I’m positive I’m losing my mind.
This isn’t normal.
Certainly not healthy.
Oh, God.
Tears sting my eyes but I refuse to let them fall. Not here in his room. Not now. Not while my father lies in his bed just a few feet away, softly snoring, while I watch. If he woke up and saw me so wrecked, I wouldn’t be able to blame it on worrying over him. No, he’d see right through that.
And he can’t see that.
Ever.
As much as I don’t want to be in his room, I need to feel him out when he wakes from his nap. To see what he knows and if any of it leads back to me or Ford. I’m getting pretty good at reading him, so if he knows anything, I’m sure I would be able to tell.
From somewhere within the condo, Sandra yells at someone. Probably Noel. She holds her position of power over them all, reaming them constantly when they don’t measure up to her standards.
I just hope that it’s not Della. It’s the most frustrating thing when someone yells at a completely deaf person. She isn’t affected by it. It only punishes everyone around her.
Thoughts of Della make my mind drift back to Ford. I tighten my thighs, clenching my sex. It’s sore. Aches from the abuse.
I nearly laugh.
Abuse?
Then why did my body freaking sing at his cruel touch?
Truth is, there were many parts about this morning, while locked in that bathroom, that I secretly enjoyed. A dirty little secret that I share with Ford’s evil alter ego.
He’ll be here soon.
I can’t face him. Not now. Not ever.
Glancing over at my father, I make sure he’s still sleeping before picking up my phone and texting Ford.
Me: I would appreciate it if you don’t speak to me ever again.
His response is immediate.
Ford: What??? Why?
Is he even for real?
He’s sick. Suffering from a mental illness. And my idiotic self got swept up in the darkness that is Ford Mann. Because I’m apparently a magnet for monsters.
Ford: Laundry, what happened?
Me: YOU. You happened, Ford. I was an idiot for trusting you.
He starts ringing my phone. Thankfully, it’s on silent. It buzzes and buzzes and buzzes. Psycho. He’s a stalker. Without a moment’s hesitation, I block his number. That will buy me some time. At least until he shows up to tutor my freaking sister.
I can’t escape him.
Not him or my father.
This life is a prison. I’m going to have to grab Della and disappear. Even if that means living a life on the run, always trying to outrun my father’s limitless resources. It’s better than waiting around for a plan. My plans keep getting derailed.
My phone buzzes again and a burst of anger flashes through me. He won’t leave me alone. I’m ready to call him every name in the book, but it’s not him.
Unknown Number: Hey, you. It’s me. Ty.
I blink at the phone, unable to form thoughts. Ty Constantine is texting me. How? Why? What the hell is going on right now?
Unknown Number: Okay, so this is probably creepy. I’m sorry. It’s just I had to leave in such a rush the other day when your dad got mad. And then I heard he got attacked. Just worried is all. Are you okay?
I change the contact to Ty Constantine before replying back.
Me: I’m fine. How did you get my number?
Ty: Let’s just say it was work to get it. How’s Alexander?
Me: Asleep. Lots of pain meds. Broken nose and cracked rib. Cheek is stitched up. Looks like he’s been in a car accident. But, he’ll be okay.
Unfortunately.
I know my father. He’ll come out of this, hunt down the man who did this to him, and ruin his life. He will ruin Ford’s life.
Ty: Ouch. Tell him I’ll hold down the fort while he’s gone. ;)
A smile tugs at my lips. I can almost imagine his handsome face in front of me, winking in a teasing manner. Ty trying to fill Dad’s shoes at his company is laughable.
“Who’s making you smile like that?” a voice rasps out.
Jerking my stare from my phone to my father, I attempt to quell the rising surge of panic. Even in his battered, sleepy state, he’s powerful and very much still the person who has his thumb on me.
“Uh…” I chew on my lip and then shrug. “Ty. I don’t know how he got my number.”
Dad blinks at me slowly, his lids heavy thanks to the drugs. “Hmm. Interesting.”
“He wants to know how you’re doing. How are you doing?”
“Been better.”
My phone buzzes again, but I don’t look down at it. I’m trapped in my dad’s penetrating stare. I squeeze my phone so hard I wonder if it’ll crack. Swallowing hard, I motion toward the end table.
“Want some water?”
“I’m fine. Aren’t you going to answer that?”
I nod and look down at my phone. It’s a picture of Ty dressed in a suit. He’s in a limo, looking quite relaxed and happy. Must be nice not to be wound up so tight all the time.
Me: What do you want?
Ty: Thanks. You look nice too.
Me: Sorry. I’m stressed. You look nice. And you have no idea what I look like right now.
I look like I was fingerfucked by a monster at school and being stared down by one as we speak. Not sexy at all.
Ty: I can’t imagine a scenario where you’d ever look less than beautiful.
Me: Thanks. Is that all? I need to go.
